


Balancing Acts

by StainedGlassSpecs



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-04 08:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13360212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StainedGlassSpecs/pseuds/StainedGlassSpecs
Summary: Everybody has an act, and Phillip is a born performer. Except that's not true at all.





	1. Chapter 1

Everybody’s got an act. That’s what Anne said to him the first time they met, appraising him with a coolly unimpressed look. She had no idea how true that statement was; all Phillip had to do was reflect on the couple of hours that had led him to that moment, when his act had been blown wide open by none other than the infamous P.T. Barnum.

P.T had to have known what he was doing. He was a master manipulator, shameless about using every tool at his disposal to make people do what he wanted. In Phillip’s case, that meant putting on a cocky grin, getting him drunk, and eyeing him like he was a fascinating piece of art in the wrong museum. He leaned in close and touched him with impudent familiarity, like they were old friends sharing a secret. It reminded him of his days in boarding school, curled up in cupboards and dark corners with a someone’s breath heavy on his neck. P.T. promised Phillip that he could give him everything he’d ever wanted, and Phillip was so captivated by his brazen performance that, just for a moment, he could almost believe that.

Maybe he’d heard of _all_ Phillip’s scandalous rumours, the ones his family had tried so hard to stamp out – schoolmates paid to disappear, servants who’d been dismissed, threats of _treatment_ and a retracted inheritance – and formed a plan. Or maybe the old con would just seduce anyone who’d pave his way to money and fame. Whatever the reason, Phillip had fallen for it with embarrassing ease, his skin hot and his thoughts pleasantly sluggish as he watched P.T. dance around the dingy bar like it was a damn stage.

Phillip hadn’t known how far P.T. had been willing to commit to keeping him on board, but in his drunken, apathetic state, he’d been willing to find out. That all flew out the window as soon as he laid eyes on Anne. She was beautiful, strong, incredible, and utterly unattainable. Perfect.

Phillip had told himself that she was enough, that pining after her proved he wasn’t broken or wrong. But his past weighed him down, an ever-present reminder in the back of his head that he belonged in this circus of freaks and outcasts as much as any of them. The difference was, he could hide this thing that made him different, whereas they could not. It made him feel uncomfortable, almost guilty. And as the others grew in confidence and success, taking pride in the thinks that made them different, he felt a strange sense of longing.

It wasn’t the same, he knew that. Anne and W.D. would never get a fraction of the respect he was handed at birth. Lettie couldn’t so much as walk safely down the street by herself. Phillip had no grounds to complain or feel disadvantaged. If he looked normal, he might as well use it for something worthwhile, even if that was just schmoozing at parties and making vapid connections with the higher-ups. It was his job, but also, these people – these friends – were worth it. They deserved to be treated with respect and admiration, because they were probably the bravest people he’d ever known.

Everybody had an act, and Phillip intended to keep his up forever.

_

Phillip’s infatuation with P.T. was never anything serious, and he knew that. The man was a crook, for one thing, and happily married with two adorable girls, for another. Nonetheless, he came to respect and admire P.T. for his work. Even as he got distracted by bigger and better things, and ultimately decided to leave them for the road, Phillip knew that he’d never achieve the same level of imagination and ingenuity that P.T. Barnum possessed. Besides that, he had just the right amount of recklessness to make such a chaotic venture work.

Halfway through week four of Jenny Lind’s tour, Phillip was starting to feel like _anyone_ would be more qualified than him to be in charge of a circus. And if Barnum returned at that very moment, Phillip would have probably punched him in the face.

“I can’t find my wig!”

“Oh, I saw Charles run by with that thing on a while ago.”

“Where’s my hoop?”

“Jesus Christ, I need a drink.”

“STOP THE DOG BOY! He stole my stilts!”

Phillip had to lunge to one side as O’Clancy loped past, chasing after a furry brown blur. “Folks, please,” he begged, trying in vain to be heard over the chaos. “We’re starting in five minutes!”

“Not without my wig we’re not!”

Phillip groaned and buried his face in his hands. Someone came over and put a hand on his shoulder. He peeked up and found W.D. giving him a grim, sympathetic look. He must appear truly pathetic, for W.D. (who had been giving him death stares every time he came within eight feet of Anne) to feel sorry for him.

“Deep breaths,” he reminded Phillip.

“I don’t know if I can keep this up,” he confessed.

“You goddamned better,” W.D. told him, smirking. “What is it you stage people always say? The show must go on?”

So Phillip took a deep breath, liberated O’Malley’s stilts from being used as a sword by Fedor to attack Chang and Eng, and help Anne pull her hoop out of a pile of discarded costumes. Their fingers brushed together, causing Anne to flinch. Phillip looked at her sadly; she’d been more avoidant than usual after the incident at the theatre, although not as angry. He preferred the anger; at least then, he knew it was something he could fix. This was something bigger and heavier than both of them. He felt suffocated by his own helplessness

Then the moment passed, and she went to climb the rafters with her brother (who was back to glaring at Phillip). Phillip took another deep breath, straightened his jacket, and entered the ring.

Despite everything, the show went on.

_

After the curtain closed for the night, the performers insisted on going out for a celebratory drink. Even Phillip, who’d been staying away from alcohol lately, allowed Lettie to shove a mug of beer in his hands, planting an exuberant kiss on his cheek. They were all buzzing with excitement, and no small amount of relief; every night they kept the show going was a success. Day by day, the protestors got louder and the reviews got harsher, and they were all aware that it could come crashing down around them at any time.

Phillip would do pretty much anything at that point to keep that from happening.

Someone slapped him on the back, nearly pitching him face forward into his mug. “Lighten up, Carlyle!” David said. “Princes of Humbug aren’t supposed to look so miserable all the time.”

He shook his head, grinning bashfully. “I’m only a prince in training.”

“Baby prince!” Charles crowed, prompting everyone to laugh. Phillip took the ribbing with good grace. He caught Anne’s eyes from across the bar, and felt his heart skip at the sight of her smile. She didn’t usually come out with them, preferring to practice her craft or rest in the solitude of the theatre. Even now she sat slightly apart from everyone, perched up on the counter and nursing her drink. He raised his glass at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Like Queen Victoria sitting on her throne,” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Only prettier.”

That sent them all into bouts of laughter again. Phillip dithered for a moment, before deciding to take a chance and stand up. However, as soon as he took the first step towards Anne, the smile slipped off her face and she glanced away, uncomfortable. Phillip stopped. He hated not being close to her, but the thought of upsetting her was even worse. Filled with sudden bitterness – at himself, at his family, the whole situation – he downed the rest of his drink and began to sway towards the exit. “I’m just getting some air,” he mumbled to whoever was listening.

It was cold outside. Phillip sucked in a lungful of air and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. His body slumped against the wall of its own accord. He wished he still his hip flask, even though he’d definitely regret it in the morning.

“Phillip?”

“Hmm?” he intoned out of sheer habit, not opening his eyes.

“Phillip Carlyle, it is you!”

He did look up then, confused. A man was walking towards him – tall, blond, dressed in tails. A society acquaintance? Someone his parents knew? Phillip struggled to place his vaguely familiar face for a long moment … then the man removed his hat, and Phillip’s eyes widened.

“ _William_?”

“In the flesh,” he said, drawing closer. “You look exactly the same.”

Phillip pushed himself off the wall, peering up at his old friend’s face. “What are you doing here?”

William tilted his head and grinned. “I heard the circus was in town, and came to see the main attraction.”

Phillip flushed, the familiar sense of shame and embarrassment curling up his spine. But it was becoming an old ache, one he could get past. He drew himself up a little straighter and said mildly, “You should. It’s a good show.”

William’s eyebrows shot up. “What brought this on, exactly? I mean,” he leaned in close, and Phillip was once again flashing back to when he was sixteen and William was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He felt like a million years had passed since then, but William had barely changed. “You’ve never been the most adventurous sort, you know?”

Phillip shrugged. “Just felt it was time to try something new. The playwright scene can be such a bore, you know? And it’s quite profitable.”

William nodded cautiously, but Phillip could tell he did not understand. Eager to move on, he asked, “So what’s happening in your life these days? You and Maria still married?”

His old friend waved his hand dismissively. He’d never pined after girls in school, and had always made fun of Phillip for staring at the ladies. His marriage had been a matter of process, and he’d never treated it as anything more. “Yes, yes.”

“And children?”

“A couple. Little horrors, I tell you.”

“I’d love to meet them some time,” Phillip said honestly.

“Absolutely.” William took another step closer, shifting the tone of the conversation to something more intimate. “Why don’t I buy you a drink and we can reconnect some more? Somewhere more … appropriate, or course.” He glanced at the bar behind them, noting the raucous noise from Phillip’s friends and colleagues.

Phillip considered the offer for a moment, tempted to be led away by his old friend and let him drive Anne’s face out of his head. But it was a risk, and the circus couldn’t afford that right now. Besides, he was no longer the same schoolboy from ten years ago. William was married with children, and Phillip had responsibilities.

“It’s getting late,” he said apologetically. “I’ve got to get these folks back, or else our show tomorrow will be pretty lacklustre. Another time?”

William frowned. “The freaks need a chaperone at all times?”

Phillip flushed again, this time with anger. “Don’t call them that,” he snapped. “They’re good people.”

They glared at each other for a moment, until William inclined his head and took a step back. “I apologise. That was beneath me. Another time it is, then.”

Phillip gave him a strained smile. “You really should come and see the show. Bring your kids, they’ll love it.”

William grinned indulgently. “I will, then. Maria might kill me, but I don’t believe I care.”

Phillip nodded, already edging back inside the pub. “It was good seeing you again.”

William put his hat back on. “Likewise, Carlyle.” He turned heel and started walking back into the shadows, leaving Phillip with a strange sense of nostalgia and unease.


	2. Chapter 2

In spite of a late start and a few hangovers, their performance the following night went off without a hitch. Lettie sang her heart out, Charles whooped the crowds into a frenzy, and Anne and W.D. soared above their heads like mystical birds of paradise. Phillip was at the centre of everything, directing the audience’s attention to the amazing people and incredible acts. He couldn’t command attention the way P.T. did, but it meant that the audience was purely focused on the performers, so it wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

As the show drew to a close and their fans’ applause drowned out the protestors’ jeering cries, Phillip stood proudly with his friends and colleagues as they took their final bows. Anne graced him with another rare smile as he invited her to stand by his side. It was times like this that made him feel like he made the right choice, and to hell with his family, his reputation, or his inheritance.

Suddenly, a familiar face caught Phillip’s attention; William was in the front row. He was standing up, along with the rest of the crowd, staring at Phillip with a large grin on his face, and clapping. There were a couple of children beside him, jumping up and down, but in that moment Phillip only had eyes for William. For once, there was nothing condescending or indulgent about his smile; he just looked happy.

Grinning just a bit brighter than usual, Phillip subtly tipped his hat to William and took another bow.

_

Usually after the show ended and the audience started filtering out, talking excitedly about their favourite acts, Phillip retreated backstage to help dismantle some of the costumes. Tonight, though, he ended up dawdling in the ring and talking to a couple of people – mainly the wealthier-looking ones who wanted to offer their surprised congratulations at the show’s success. Just as he’d suspected, William used the opportunity to approach him.

“I am impressed,” he said in a low voice.

“Didn’t think that was possible,” Phillip said drily. “Thanks for coming, though. These your children?” He eyed the children running loose circles around the pair of them, loaded with merchandise from the stalls outside and shrieking excitedly.

“Yes, this is the brood. James! Mary! Millicent! Come and say hello to Mr Carlyle.”

Only one of them paid any attention to him, the littlest girl who stopped briefly and gave Phillip a shy smile. He smiled back at her. “You enjoy the show?” he asked.

She nodded. “I liked the trapeze girl. How does she fly around like that?”

Phillip laughed. “She’s very talented.”

“I want to be a trapeze artist when I grow up!”

William clapped a hand over his eyes. “Oh heavens, that’s all I need. My daughter, running off to join the circus.”

Phillip caught the teasing smile on his face, so he played along. “Well, I could put in a good word with the management.”

“Don’t you dare, Carlyle.”

He laughed, and it was like old times again. “Let me introduce you to the performers? I don’t think they’d mind.”

William looked reluctant by the prospect, even as his children shrieked excitedly. “I’m not sure … I may be tempted to accidentally leave them behind if they went backstage, and their mother is already looking for a reason to kill me.” He raised an eyebrow at Mary, who was cartwheeling across the sawdust-covered floor in a fake beard. “Well, she probably wouldn’t miss that one.”

Phillip wasn’t going to push it, particularly if William was going to (intentionally or not) be rude towards the others. But before he could make a quick goodbye, a voice interrupted them.

“Phillip? There’s an issue with one of the props,” Anne said, ducking out from behind the back curtain. When she spotted William, her face frosted over slightly. “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, rushing over before she could escape. “Anne, please come and meet an old friend of mine.”

Reluctantly, she allowed him to take her by the hand and bring her forward. She was still dressed in her costume, but had removed the wig and wrapped a shawl around herself. Phillip was reminded of the last time he introduced her to someone from his old life, and felt a sudden stab of fear that William would give her yet another reason to feel ashamed. But although William’s eyes lingered briefly on their joined hands, he gave her a charming smile and took his hat off in greeting.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Wheeler,” he said, once Phillip formally introduced them. “That was a marvellous performance.”

“Thank you,” she replied cautiously. Glancing at Phillip, she asked, “You’re a friend of Phillip?”

“Oh, we go way back. Best chums back in school.”

“Really? Phillip doesn’t talk a lot about his past.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised. I could tell you stories about Mr Carlyle here that would make you fall off your hoop!”

“I very much doubt that,” she said drily.

He arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could trade me a few stories of your own?”

Catching onto the tone of his voice, Phillip gave him a flat look. He couldn’t possibly be implying what Phillip _thought_ he was implying … could he?

Anne squinted at him for a moment, before shrugging. “Not at all,” she deferred. “But I don’t believe a boy has ever really surprised me, certainly not enough to make me lose my balance.”

William grinned. “Not yet, perhaps.”

Phillip glanced between them, sensing the rising tension. Before he could intervene, however, the children ran up and started bombarding Anne with questions. Her face softened into a smile as she talked to them, charmed as always by the honest curiosity and excitement that children possessed. After a while, a few of the others came out to join them, and William managed to be his charming self towards all of them. Phillip was happy that he could finally show the circus people someone from his old life who wasn’t going to judge or berate them. Even if William wasn’t completely comfortable with the whole thing, at least he was making an effort.

After a while, he felt a touch on his inner elbow, and looked up to see William standing close. “Step outside for a moment?”

Phillip cleared his throat, which suddenly felt dry. “Alright. Anne, are the children okay with you guys for a minute?”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded.

William led him outside the theatre and around the corner. Phillip shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to expect. “Is everything alright?”

His old friend nodded, but the frown on his face said otherwise. He paced slowly back and forth for a minute while Phillip felt increasingly uncomfortable. Eventually, he tilted his head to look at Phillip, and sighed. “You really love it don’t you?”

Phillip blinked. “Pardon?”

“This whole thing. The circus. I was convinced you’d had some kind of mental episode – the papers haven’t been too kind to your recent plays, you know, and you’ve always been sensitive about criticism.”

“I am _not_ -“

“And I know that your dear old father always had a role to play in that. So naturally, I assumed this was just a reactionary phase of some kind. But it’s not, is it? You really enjoy it.”

Phillip frowned. “Yeah, I do. Why is it a problem for you?”

“For me? No, I couldn’t care less about your flights of fancy. But Phillip, you have to know this can’t last. The circus, the freaks … and Anne Wheeler.”

Phillip straightened abruptly. “I don’t want to talk to you about Anne.”

“Why not? Afraid I’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear? It’s obvious from ten thousand feet away that you’re infatuated with her. But you can’t marry her, so why keep torturing yourself like this?”

“What do you know?” Phillip snapped. “You married someone you could never love, and you want to lecture me on torture?”

“I played the game,” William said angrily. “I did what I had to do, and what happens in private is no one’s business but mine. I can keep it hidden. But Anne? You can’t keep her hidden.”

“I don’t want her to hide!”

“Phillip, be reasonable. You’re not doing yourself _or_ her any favours.”

“What would you have me do, then?” he demanded. “Marry someone I don’t love?”

“Yes,” William said, exasperated. “Marry some ninny your parents approve of, secure your inheritance, and then just have Anne on the side. Hell, have the whole damn circus if you so desire. Your opportunities are endless, after all.”

He said it so reasonably, and Phillip was just left speechless. A part of him knew that William was just doing, as he said, what he had to do. There was no way he could marry who he truly loved, and he’d always resented that Phillip may have that chance, not understanding that it wasn’t so simple.

“I’m not like you, William,” he said. “I can’t just _pretend_ my whole life.”

“If Anne were a boy, you’d have no choice but to pretend,” he countered.

Phillip’s breath caught. It was one thing to share history and feel the weight of unspoken memories, but actually admitting it out loud was another matter. He’d tried so hard to leave that part of himself behind. He could claim youthful stupidity and curiosity. He could said it have never been anything serious. But he was desperate to make William understand.

“I … you’re right,” he said in a low voice. “The world couldn’t know. But she would know, and I’d never let her forget it. Marrying someone else, even if there were no feelings behind it, would make her doubt that, and I couldn’t do it. I’d stay a bachelor forever, and lose my inheritance if that’s what it meant.”

William scoffed. “That’s easy to say, Phillip.”

“I would have done it for you!” he said. The words came out in a rush, before he could stop them. As soon as they hit the air, he regretted them. William’s face transformed into something painful.

“Forget it,” Phillip said, starting to walk away.

“Phillip.”

“I need to go, okay, the others are going to be wondering … and you should get your kids home…”

Hands suddenly grabbed him and spun him back around. Before Phillip could react, William had pushed him back against the wall and pressed their lips together. His brain froze in absolute shock, but beneath that, there was a spark of pleasure and comfort. It had been so long since he’d kissed anyone with any kind of genuine passion. He could feel himself relaxing as William’s body heat soaked into him, old memories filtering into his mind like the coloured lights of the circus.

Then Anne’s face flashed into his mind, and all his senses rushed back in an unpleasant wave. With a colossal effort, he shoved William away. The man stumbled back a step, his face flushed and his lips swollen.

“Are you _insane_?” he hissed, glancing around frantically for a sign that anyone witnessed them.

William smoothed his hair back, gaining his composure back with an ease that made Phillip jealous. “There’s no one around,” he said. “Remember, I know how to play this game.”

Phillip shook his head, a faint sense of hysteria starting to bubble up inside of him. When did things get so messed up? “I think you should leave.”

“Phillip, come on …”

“Take your kids, and go home!” he yelled. “I mean it!”

William’s eyes went cold, and he straightened up. “Fine, I will. But remember that you’re the one who can’t figure out what he wants.”

“I know what I want,” he insisted. That much, at least, he knew for a fact. “William, I … I’m sorry, but I’m not the same man I was back then in school. I’ve grown up. I love Anne, now, and you’ve got a family. We can’t just go back to how things were.”

 William just stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Phillip gazed back, willing him to understand. Eventually, he just nodded curtly and walked away.

Phillip slumped against the wall, his breath coming quick and shallow, feeling emptier than ever before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the comments :)
> 
> Minor warning for this chapter: homophobia/biphobia, including some misconceptions from our protagonists. Please know that neither the author nor the narrative endorses this.

Phillip spent the next few days in a state of acute paranoia. Every morning he expected the papers to have his name in the headlines: _CARLYLE SODOMY SCANDAL._ Then the police would come to drag him away, and Anne would know his secret, and the circus would fall apart.

Realistically, Phillip knew that it was unlikely William would go to the press out of revenge, or jealousy. His own position was too precarious to invite that kind of scrutiny in his life. But still, someone could have seen them. There were plenty of people hanging around the circus with bad intentions these days.

Still, as the days continued to pass, and nothing out of the ordinary happened, besides getting a formal letter from his father’s lawyer, officially rescinding his inheritance. It didn’t surprise him, and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel upset about it.

Phillip knew he couldn’t be distracted by his panic for too long; the others were already throwing him concerned looks. And there were other things to worry about, like thinking up new acts for the show. Phillip didn’t have that level of creativity all by himself, so more often than not he just asked each of the performers what they’d like to include more of in their acts, and then helped them polish it up. He started spending nights at the building, going over choreography and stage plans.

One morning, he woke up with a crook back and a headache, having fallen asleep on a sack of horse grain.

“Morning, Queen Victoria,” Anne’s voice said, lightly amused. She was sitting on an upturned crate, as Phillip saw when he opened his eyes.

“Hrrm. What time is it?”

“Just after six,” she said.

“Why are you here so early?”

“Practice.” She stood up and held out a hand. “Come for a walk?”

Happy for his company to be requested, Phillip let her pull him to his feet, smiling at how easy it was for her. He dusted himself off, and followed her out of the building. While walking, he stretched his limbs out and tried to work out some of the kinks in his back. Anne noticed some straw stuck in his hair and reached over to brush it out, laughing at him. He didn’t know why she was being so tactile with him right now, after weeks of avoidance, but he was grateful.

He felt altogether rumpled and not fit for society as they left, but it was early enough that the people who were up were busy heading off to their jobs and setting up for the day. There were a few glances sent their way as they wandered through town, but no one paid them too much attention. He bought them breakfast from a street vendor, and they ate as they walked, just another part of the crowd. They ended up close to the docks, where view of the water almost made up for the smell. Anne kept her arms folded in front of her, but she looked content and at ease to walk beside him, and Phillip couldn’t be happier about it.

“I was talking to W.D. about some new routines last night,” he told her, explaining what he’d been working on lately that kept him up all hours. “He thought it would be good to interact more with the other performances. What do you think?”

“W.D.’s the choreographer,” she said, waving her apple dismissively. “I just do what I’m told and make it look good.”

“You must have some suggestions,” he persisted.

Anne smirked at him. “I believe that’s your job, ringmaster,” she said. “You come up with the crazy ideas, and we either do it or try to tell you you’re dreaming. Barnum would have us teach the elephants to trapeze if he could get away with it.”

He shook his head, knowing that she probably wasn’t even exaggerating. “I’m not Barnum.”

She fixed him with a considering look. “No. You’re different.”

He glanced at her, unsure of how critical she was trying to be. But she softened her gaze slightly. “That’s not a bad thing, Phillip. You don’t need to be ashamed of it.”

He shuffled uncomfortably. His conversation with William from the night came back to him, making him feel transparent in his own skin. Anne had a way of looking at him like she could see all his secrets, and right now it felt like the rest of the world could, too. But she was just talking about his job, he told himself. “I’m not ashamed,” he said.

“You’ve been loking pretty ashamed of yourself for the last couple of days. Ever since your friend stopped by.”

“Are you worried about me?” he said, trying to tease her. It would explain why she was suddenly so friendly again. But she just arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” she said bluntly.

He shuffled his feet and looked around, distracting himself by the sights and sounds of the city. “There’s nothing to worry about. William and I … we haven’t seen each other in a while, and he had a few opinions to share on my new career path. Nothing I wouldn’t expect, really.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What … no! I mean, not physically or anything. Why would you think that?”

She herded him over to a quiet spot near the water. “Phillip, I … I know what it means when someone looks at you like that. It could mean something different if you’re a fancy dressed man, maybe, I don’t know. But I didn’t like it, and I'm not sure that you did, either. If he came back, I'd be worried if you went off with him alone again.”

Phillip felt light-headed and slightly nauseous. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all?” she pushed, gentle and serious.

“It wasn’t just him!” he burst out. “I mean, it was this time, but he knew … he knew I’d … It’s been years and it’s not me anymore, but …”

“Phillip, breathe.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Just slow down. It’s ok.”

Phillip sucked in a lungful of air. He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t tell her this stuff; she didn’t know what she was asking. It wasn’t fair to her, and it would be disastrous to him. But still, a part of him was desperate to let it out before it ate him up from the inside. If Anne was brave enough to do this, walk through town with him despite feeling scared, bitter and despairing, maybe he owed to her to not lie. She wouldn't let him get away with it, anyway.

“We kissed,” he said, the words coming out before he could stop them. Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t pull away just yet. “And it … it wasn’t the first time.”

Slowly, she removed her hand and once again folded her arms across her middle. He ached for its loss.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not entirely sure what he was apologising for but desperate for forgiveness all the same.

She took a deep breath and said, “Did you love him?”

“Once. Maybe. I don’t know, I was young.”

She glanced off to the side, blinking rapidly. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort, but in that moment he did not feel worthy of touching her. Eventually she said, “I’ve known men like that. The circus we used to run with attracted all kinds of runaways. Some of them would marry girls; I suppose they wanted to get out and have a normal kind of life. I didn’t really understand them, but I didn’t blame them, either.” She gave him a wounded look. “I guess now I at least understand how the girls felt.”

Phillip jerked forward. “No. Anne, it’s not like that. I love you. I _love_ you. There’s nothing pretend about it.”

“But you’ve also loved men.”

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I know it doesn’t make sense, and I know it’s wrong, but … I can’t just pretend my past doesn’t exist. I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

“And your future?”

He shrugged helplessly. “All I want is to be with you.”

She shook her head, looking lost, confused, and frustrated. “I’ve known people like that, too. People who don’t care who they lie with, who just take their pleasure wherever they can find it. I never understood it, and I never thought much of it.”

Phillip looked down, his eyes swimming. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that for him, but his voice had completely left him. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand cup his cheek. He looked up at her in shock.

“I think a lot of _you_ , Phillip,” Anne said “You’re a good man. This doesn’t change that.”

She brushed her thumb under his eye, wiping away a tear, before taking a step back. “I need ... time, I suppose. To think. I’ll see you back at the theatre.”

He watched her hurry off into the crowd, leaving him feeling like the world had just come down around his ears. Feeling dazed, Phillip scrubbed a hand across his eyes, and then started making his own way back through town. He wasn’t going back to the theatre just yet though; he was going to find any bar that would sell him alcohol this time of the morning, then go back to his apartment and not emerge for the entire rest of the day.

_

Phillip woke up that evening with a pounding headache – some unholy combination of the alcohol and uncontrollable crying. Whoever was pounding on the door wasn't make things any easier. Phillip groaned and buried his face in his pillow, but that didn’t make it stop.

“Phillip Carlyle, if you don’t open this door right now, you ain’t gonna have a door no more!”

He didn’t need that door. He could buy a new one. But with his parents having officially cut him off and no more inheritance, Phillip knew couldn’t keep spending without consequence. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and stagger his way to the door. There, he found Charles, Lettie and W.D. standing on his doorstep. They all cringed at the sight of his face, so he knew he must look a mess.

“Whassatime?” he croaked.

“Twenty minutes until the curtain goes up,” W.D. said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Oh _God_.” He staggered back to lie on the sofa, putting his head in his hands “I’m sorry guys, I don’t think I can …”

“Now you shut up, Mr Carlyle,” Lettie said, shoving a glass of water in his hands. “You will do it, and we're not accepting anything less.”

“I can’t believe you threw a pity part and didn’t invite us,” Charles said, kicking an empty bottle away.

His conversation with Anne came back to him, and Phillip wanted to start crying all over again. If they knew what he’d confessed, they probably wouldn’t want him back at all. He met W.D.’s eyes and, with a jolt of panic, realised Anne probably told him. He returned Phillip’s gaze stoically, as though assessing whether or not to beat him up. But all he did was reach out and haul Phillip to his feet, much like his sister had done earlier that morning.

“Come on, get dressed. What do we say, again?”

Phillip swallowed. “The show must go on?”

“Bingo.”

Somehow, he managed to get through the show without throwing up or falling over. The protesters all sounded louder than usual, though. At the very end, he held out his hand for Anne, and they looked at each other. Her eyes looked a little red-rimmed as well under all the makeup, and his heart ached. It was likely that they both looked like a pair of hang dogs rather than glittering performers, but he supposed that was what they spent money on pyrotechnics for - to cover up the lies.

After the crowds left, he was once again crowded by W.D., Lettie and Charles, who herded him into a seat and plied him with more water. Figuring he’d come this far, and knowing that they deserved honesty as much as Anne did, Phillip ended up telling them about William.

W.D. didn’t look surprised, confirming that Anne had probably already told him. Lettie just sighed and patted him on the back, while Charles laughed at him.

“Whaddaya know?” he said. “Prince Phillip’s more of a deviant than all of us put together!”

W.D. slapped him lightly on the back of the head, prompting Charles to swear at him. Then he crouched down in front of Phillip. “You know this doesn’t make me worry any less for Anne,” he said.

“I know,” Phillip said quietly.

“But you’re not going to stop pining after her, are you?”

“Probably not.”

W.D. shook his head. “She can make her own decisions. Never let my opinions stop her. But the way I see it, a man like you wouldn’t give up as much as you have unless you were serious.”

“I am. Honestly, I can’t see myself feeling this way about anyone else ever again.”

“And for you, I suppose that’s saying something.”

Phillip glanced down. “I don’t just want to fall into bed with every single attractive person I meet, you know,” he muttered.

W.D. slapped him on the back. “Obviously, or else you’d be wasting your time pining after me instead.”


	4. Chapter 4

Two days after he’d received the letter from his parents, Phillip had another visitor. He blinked in surprise to see her standing on the doorstep.

“Hello, Mother,” he said formally.

“Hello, Phillip,” she replied. When he stood by to let her in, she did not sit down, but stood awkwardly in the centre of his apartment, taking it in. It looked better than it used to, to be perfectly honest; fewer empty booze bottles. There were still pages of notes and drawings scattered around, ideas for the circus replacing old drafts of plays. A few props and costumes had found their way inside, which his mother’s eyes lingered on.

“Why are you here?” he found himself asking.

She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “I came to see if you might regain your senses. Your father is angry, but he will see reason if you give him a chance.”

He sighed. “I would have thought we’d both be tired of this conversation by now, mother.”

“Phillip, please! This is about your future! Will you really throw it all away for the _circus_? And that girl?”

“Looks like I already have.”

She cast her gaze to the side as if he’d struck her. He felt a pang of regret. “Mother, I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m just, for once in my life, doing something I love. I wish you could accept that.” He watched her sadly for a moment. An idea came to him suddenly. It wasn’t a good idea, but he wanted to try nonetheless. “Why don’t you come see a show? Just once, to see what it is we do.”

She sighed deeply. “Phillip, I don’t think …”

“Please,” he said. Now that he’d suggested it, he realised he really wanted it to happen.

His mother dithered for a moment, but eventually conceded. “Don’t expect that I’ll change my mind, though. I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I thought you were used to my mistakes,” he said wryly.

“Some mistakes cannot be forgotten … or covered up,” she said, fixing him with a stern glare. He managed not to flinch, instead looking her straight in the eye.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

_

That night as they were getting ready, Phillip felt uncharacteristically nervous. He was not good at hiding it.

“What’s a’matter with you?” Charles said, jerking away as Phillip tried to straighten his jacket for the millionth time. “You’re worse than Barnum in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” Phillip said distractedly.

“Is that guy coming back again?”

It took him a second to realise what Charles was referring to. When it clicked, Phillip blanched. “No! At least … Christ, I hope not.” There were only so many emotionally draining people he could deal with in one night.

“Hey, if you need me to trample someone, just point me in the right direction,” Charles said stoutly.

Phillip huffed a laugh. “Thanks, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Not even the hecklers?”

“Absolutely not the hecklers.”

Charles grumbled to himself for a moment. Suddenly, he caught sight of someone behind Phillip’s shoulder, and his face brightened. “Hey, Boss Lady!”

Phillip turned, and was surprised to see none other than Charity Barnum walked towards them. She had evidently let herself backstage, along with Caroline and Helen.

“Mrs Barnum, I wasn’t expecting … oof!” He grunted as two pint-sized battering rams hit him right in the gut. “Hi, girls,” he wheezed.

“Phillip, Phillip!” Helen said. “We came to see all the new acts! Do you have a mermaid yet? What about a hippopotamus?”

“Girls, be gentle with Mr Carlyle,” Charity admonished. She smiled apologetically at Phillip. “I’m sorry for the late appearance. Are there any tickets left?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Phillip said, bending down slightly as Helen tried to clamber onto his back. “You three never have to buy tickets. But it is pretty full, so you might have to stand. Sorry.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said. “These two never sit still anyway. How are things going?”

Phillip cleared his throat, shoving all thoughts of Anne, William, and his mother away before they could show on his face. “Good. I mean, we’re holding down the fort well enough while your husband is away.”

A shuttered look crossed Charity’s face. “I’m sure you are. We all miss him.”

“Us, too,” he said honestly.

Charles hopped down from his perch, playfully pretending to shoot Caroline with his fingers. She ducked behind Phillip, giggling. “Don’t worry, Mrs Barnum, we’ve got it all under control. Humbug Jr here has a few surprises up his sleeve.” He slapped Phillip in the back of the legs, causing him to buckle slightly.

“Watch it,” he muttered, struggling not to drop Helen.

Charity laughed. “I have no doubt that we will have a wonderful time. We should leave you all to finish getting ready. Helen, Caroline, come on.”

Phillip tried not to let his nerves increase as P.T.’s family wandered back to the seating area. Charity, true to her name, would never say a bad thing about her husband’s show, he was sure of that. (Her husband was another matter – he’d witnessed her put him in his place with just a single word and a raised eyebrow – but he wasn’t here, so no need to worry about him). However, her presence did increase his resolve to put on a damn spectacular performance.

Phillip peeked out of the curtain as the audience was still taking their seats. His heart skipped a beat as he spotted his mother enter. She was alone, and looked deeply uncomfortable as she eyed the crowds, looking for a place to sit that didn’t put her right next to a group of over-excited children in rags. While Phillip dithered about whether to go out and rescue her, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.

“Are you alright?” Anne asked.

For once, he was too preoccupied to think about the unspoken space between them. “My mother’s here tonight,” he said. Anne’s eyes went wide, and then a cold look overtook her face.

“Why is she here?” she asked. Phillip abruptly remembered how Anne had been treated the last time she’d met his parents, and immediately regretted everything. “Didn’t your parents cut you off?”

“Yeah, they did. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I might as well show her what I gave it all away for.”

“Well. I hope we succeed in proving your point for you,” Anne said coldly.

Phillip winced, thinking of P.T. and his irrepressible need to prove himself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just … if there’s a chance I can make her understand, I think it’s worth taking.”

After a moment, she nodded and looked down. “She is family, I suppose.”

“So are you, and so’s everyone else here. I don’t regret anything, Anne.”

She smiled sadly. “It’s not quite the same, though.”

“Maybe it’s better.” He glanced back out to see if his mother had run away yet. To his surprise, she was talking to Charity Barnum. After a minute, Charity gestured for her to follow, and led her to a couple of spare seats up the back. Phillip smiled. He couldn’t imagine his mother willing sitting next to P.T. Barnum’s wife in any circumstances except these. This was Charity’s territory, and she was graciously choosing to invite Mrs Carlyle in.

The lights dimmed, and Anne hurried off to her post. Phillip took a deep breath and allowed quiet anticipation to settle over the crowd. Then he threw the curtain back, and the show began.

Despite his insistence to Anne that he wasn’t doing this just to prove a point, Phillip couldn’t help but feel a sense of vindictive triumph as the crowds hollered and cried out in delight. It gave an extra edge to his performance, an almost Barnum-esque surge of confidence. _This is me_ , mother, he wanted to say. _This is my life now, and it’s great, and I hope you can find it in yourself to be just a little bit proud of me._

He managed to avoid looking at her for most of the performance. It was only when he came over to the front row of the audience to give his hat to a couple of kids and invite them to bow to Jumbo the elephant that his eyes drifted upwards. His mother was watching some of the acrobats with wide eyes, her lips parted in awe. Way up high, Anne let go of her brother’s hands and went flying, cutting a graceful curve through the air. The audience gasped as she performed a complicated somersault, before managing to catch herself on a lower rung. Phillip grinned. That move wasn’t part of the official choreography; W.D. may be the one who constructed their routines, but Anne improvised. He wondered if she’d done it to show off, and hoped that she felt the same surge of bright, burning triumph that was coursing through his veins.

The show went on, until Phillip ended it with a bang. Fire shot into the air and coloured confetti rained down upon them as they took their bows. He and Anne smiled widely at each other, their chests heaving as they both caught their breath. With her eyes shining and sweat glittering on her forehead, she looked like something from a dream.

Eventually, Phillip turned his eyes back to the audience, looking for his mother’s reaction.

She was gone.

His brow creased and his eyes darted over the crowd, thinking that he must have misplaced where she was sitting. But no, there was Charity Barnum, standing up and clapping. She caught his gaze, and the smile slipped off her face. Regretfully, she shook her head.

It was as though someone had doused cold water all over him. Disappointment flooded his lungs, sitting heavy in his chest. He could barely bring himself to stay on stage.

Anne was giving him a sad, resigned look; he could see it in his peripheral. But he couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. Instead, his eyes found Charity again, looking at her with something close to desperation, as though begging her for answers. Of course, there was nothing she could do. Instead, she tilted her chin up, as though challenging him. She then nodded her head at him significantly. He understood. With some effort, Phillip forced a smile back onto his face and finished their bows.

After everyone had left, Charity found him backstage again. While the girls were occupied with Lettie, she came to sit by him one of the ratty old chairs, watching him brush horse fur and dust off his red jacket with more force than necessary.

“That was wonderful, Phillip,” she said. “Phineas would be very proud. And no doubt a little jealous.”

“Thank you, Mrs Barnum.”

“Please, call me Charity. We’re practically family at this point.”

He gave her a tight smile and kept up his menial task. Charity kept a fond, watchful eye on her girls, who were playing with Lettie and Fedo, but seemed content to sit in calm silence with him. After a while, Phillip grew irritated with himself.

“I don’t know why I’m so disappointed,” he said, knowing that she’d understand what he was talking about. “I’m not even surprised. I should be grateful she agreed to come along at all.”

Charity shook her head. “You don’t need to constantly forgive your parents for every rejection, Phillip.”

“Don’t I? I feel like it’s my job, you know, as a son.”

She smiled and shook her head. “As a child, your only job should be to live in this world, to find your own happiness, and to give as much as you can. As parents, we are constantly afraid for our children. We think that we need to bind them to safety forever, but our own idea of safety comes from what we’ve always known. If our children wander off into the unknown, it’s scary for us. But we can’t expect them to lead the same lives as us; if we’re done our jobs right, our children have become their own people, and have to make their own choices.”

He looked at her, remembering what P.T. had said about where she’d come from, and the choices she’d made to start a life with him. “Do you ever regret leaving them?”

She gazed off into the distance. “It makes me sad, sometimes. That the girls don’t have a relationship with their grandparents, mostly. I was very young, you know, and I couldn’t see anything but brightness in my future with Phin. Of course, life never works out quite the way you expect. Sometimes I feel like I’m balancing on a tightrope, like your Anne. There’s so much uncertainty.”

She took a deep breath. “But do I regret it? No, I don’t believe I do. My girls are happy, and so am I. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

“I think you’re very brave,” he told her. “And your girls are amazing. I don’t think P.T. can believe how lucky he is to have you in his life.”

Charity smiled sadly. “Phin always had a problem believing in what was right in front of him.” Before he could think of something to say to that, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Stay strong, Phillip. The future is bright for you, no matter what you've left behind.”


	5. Chapter 5

The weeks dragged on, and Phillip started to feel like he was walking on a tightrope. He was caught between the professional demands of his job and the personal dilemmas in his own life (feeling like there was very little difference between the two), keeping the show afloat and their detractors at bay, and constantly circling through the steps in a dance of unease and longing with Anne.

Of course, things couldn’t last. Their standoff with the protesters finally came to a head, and very quickly devolved into violence. Before Phillip knew it, the entire theatre was up in flames. Amidst the panic and the terror, his sole focus was getting everyone out, and there was no time for anything else.

When P.T. appeared out of nowhere, Phillip was too overwhelmed to feel anything but vague surprise. But no matter how frustrated and lost he’d been since P.T. left, he still experienced a sense of relief. _Barnum could fix this_ , he thought, like a child. _I’m not alone anymore._

But then the worst happened.

“Where’s Anne?”

Phillip’s world compressed to a single point of horror as he glanced around and realised that Anne was not with them. He didn’t even think; he just ran.

As he entered the gaping doorway, the heat of the fire hit him like a blow to the face, but he pressed on. His vision was consumed by fire, and Anne was nowhere to be seen. When he tried to call for her, his lungs filled with smoke, choking him. While he stumbled around the burning building, his friends’ home, _his_ home, Phillip felt a growing, heavy sense of helplessness.

A wooden beam fell nearby. Phillip barely stumbled out of the way as embers flew up and caught him across the face. He yelled hoarsely in pain, trying to shield himself with his arm.

A wave of dizziness hit him, driving him to his knees. Black spots started to dance across his vision. Perhaps he was in hell. His parents had always warned him that he’d end up here. They’d taken him to a priest once, after catching him in bed with the carriage driver when he was eighteen. Phillip had stood there in the church with a bruise blossoming across his face, trying to shrink into himself as the priest spat words of fire and brimstone at him. Now here he was.

Phillip didn’t regret it. Right now, he didn’t regret anything in his life that had led up to this moment. Lying in the centre of the ring that had brought him fear and freedom in equal measure, he gazed up at the burning rafters and wanted nothing more than for Anne to be alright. He would gladly let hell consume him, if it meant she got out alive.

Phillip’s eyes slid shut, and the last thing he remembered was arms around his chest, pulling him into oblivion.

_

When he woke up in an all-white room with Anne’s face hovering above him, Phillip was very confused, because it felt like he’d left hell and gone straight to heaven. Then all the aches and pains in his body became evident, and he realised that he was very much still alive.

“You’re here,” he rasped.

Anne clutched his hand, smiling so hard her face looked like it may break apart. She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips. Phillip’s eyes fluttered shut as warmth spread throughout his broken body. This was better than heaven.

“Of course I’m here,” she whispered. “Idiot. I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed like that for a long time, their bodies pressed closely together, taking comfort in shared breaths and steady heartbeats. They were alive, and that was all that mattered.

Phillip wanted to ask more questions – is everyone else alright, did the animals get out alive, is P.T. really back or was that a smoke-induced hallucination – but he couldn’t stay awake for longer than a minute at a time, and most of that was spent drinking water and mumbling things at the doctor. He felt unbearably weak and useless, but Anne stayed by his side the whole time, unflinching in the face of judgemental stares or pointed remarks from the doctor and nurses. Her strong, steady presence relaxed him, and he found it easy to drift out of consciousness.

The next time he woke up properly, Anne was still there. She helped him sit up this time, bracing him with her arm while she rearranged his pillows.

“You should head home,” he told her, still hating the charred whisper that his voice had become. “You must be exhausted.”

“Shut up and drink your water.”

He obeyed, because arguing felt too much like hard work at that moment. An envelope on the bedside table caught his eye – the paper looked expensive, and his own name was on the front in attractive cursive. Anne caught his stare, and handed him the envelope.

“You had a visitor while you were out,” she told him. He raised an eyebrow at the odd tone in her voice. “Your old friend.”

 _William_. Phillip blinked in surprise at the letter. He felt oddly reluctant to open it, especially with Anne sitting right there. “Did he behave himself?”

She shrugged, fiddling with the edge of her shawl. “He was fine.”

Phillip noticed how she was suddenly avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable.”

“He didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I suppose he did. But it wasn’t his fault. He just wanted to make sure you were still alive. Nearly cried when he saw you there, and I couldn’t even blame him.” She gave him a furtive glance. “I can’t begrudge him for caring about you.”

Phillip managed a tiny smile and squeezed her hand. She returned the gesture. Shortly after that, W.D. arrived.

“Oh, not you again,” Anne complained when she caught sight of him.

He planted his hands on his hips. “Now look, the deal was, when he started speaking in full sentences again you’d go home, take a nap, and change your clothes. Poor guy probably thinks he’s still stuck in that theatre with all that ash on your dress.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything…” Phillip began. Anne glared at him and crossed her arms.

“If you didn’t look like half-dead right now, I’d hit you,” she grumbled. Reluctantly, she got to her feet and bent down to kiss him again. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she whispered. “Don’t do anything stupid like try to walk out of here, understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, feeling lightheaded with happiness. He caught W.D.’s eyes over her shoulder, and expected another threat of bodily harm, serious or otherwise. But W.D. just reached over and squeezed his shoulder lightly. There was a gentle look of gratitude on his face, which Phillip felt unworthy of – Anne had saved herself. All he’d done was try to get himself killed.

“The others pass on their well wishes,” W.D. said. “They wanted to come, but didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“They all okay?”

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. A few minor injuries, but nothing worth fretting over. You did good, getting them all out.”

He felt himself go red. “So did you. It wasn’t just me.”

W.D. nodded. “You get your ass out of bed soon, alright?”

“I will. Thank you,” Phillip replied. He watched them walk out, W.D.’s arm around Anne’s shoulder. It was nice to see how close the two of them were, when closeness was needed. They’d obviously spent most of their lives relying on each other and sticking together through adversity. Phillip didn’t have any siblings – his parents had tried, but his mother had gotten sick after having him, and it hadn't been possible. Phillip he wondered if things might have been different for him if he'd had a brother or sister. They might have even come to visit him in hospital. Phillip didn’t expect to see his parents anytime soon.

But he’d had one visitor. Phillip looked at the letter in his hands, running his calloused fingertips over the rich paper. After a moment, he took a deep breath and opened it.

 

_My Dearest Phillip,_

_Words cannot describe my fear when I heard of the fire, nor my relief when I found that you had survived. Despite the different paths our lives have taken, a part of me will always care very deeply for you. I truly hope that you and your colleagues are able to move on and rebuild your show. It may have made my head spin, but I can’t deny that my children were very happy. Whatever you think of my marriage, I do want them to be happy._

_Although I wish I understood your choices better, I respect the fact that you fully commit to them. You deserve to find someone who will commit to you in the same way. I pray that you continue to find happiness and fulfilment in your chosen job, and with the one you love. That takes true courage. I believe you may be one of the bravest people I’ve ever known, if also the most frustrating._

_I understand that you will not wish to see me again, and I respect that also. Please know that I value the time we had together, though it was long ago. I will carry that piece of honest happiness with me forever._

_Be well._

_Love always,_

_William_

 

Phillip read it once, and couldn’t bring himself to do it again. Instead, he folded the letter back up, slipped it under his pillow, and lay down with his eyes closed. A few tears slipped down the side of his face, but he drifted easily into another sleep, his head full of glossy memories and bittersweet might-have-beens.

_

“Glad to see you didn’t mess up that pretty face too much,” P.T. said to him when he came to visit a day later. Phillip was frustrated to find himself blushing slightly – he’d cursed Barnum’s name countless times over the past few weeks, and the man _still_ managed to be charming. Bastard.

“Glad your priorities are as incomprehensible as always,” he retorted, trying to push himself to a sitting position. The movement sent him into a coughing fit. P.T.’s teasing grin vanished, and he launched forward to put a hand on Phillip’s shoulder.

“Easy, kid,” he soothed, pushing him gently but firmly back down. “You don’t want an infection.”

Phillip slumped back down and glared at the ceiling. He was so very sick of lying around. Even a few days in hospital had caused him to be unbearably restless. He’d tried to discharge himself that morning, but had started hacking up a lung the moment he’d tried to stand up, and been tucked back into bed by a couple of unimpressed nurses. He was lucky Anne hadn’t been there, or she would have probably bound him there with her trapeze rope.

Once he was satisfied that Phillip wasn’t going to try anything crazy again, like move, P.T. sat back down. He had an odd expression on his face as he looked at Phillip – something that was a little bit fond, a little bit sad, and a whole lot of other things that Phillip couldn’t decipher.

“How are Charity and the girls?” he asked, to lighten the mood.

P.T. smiled self-deprecatingly and glanced down. “They’re fine. She’s back with her parents right now, but we’re working things out. By the time I find us a new place, things ought to be okay.”

“Where are you staying right now?” he asked.

“Ah, well.” This time it was his turn to go red. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

Phillip frowned at him. “You don’t have anywhere? At all?”

“Money’s in short supply right now,” he said. “There are some savings, but with the future of the circus in limbo, I’m not making any unnecessary expenses.”

Only someone like P.T. Barnum, who spent his money on exotic animals, state-of-the-art special effects, and diamond-encrusted costumes, would consider his own living situation an ‘unnecessary expense’. Sure, he cheated his way into most of those things, but at least he made the effort. The man had such an all-or-nothing approach to life that it was a little dizzying. “P.T., are you telling me you’re homeless right now?”

P.T. waved his hand dismissively. “It’s only temporary, kid, and I’ve lived rough before. Don’t worry about me.” His smile turned a little bitter. “I deserve a little hardship, after everything that’s happened.”

This time, Phillip could recognise the look on his face. It was guilt. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t left, things might not have gotten so out of hand,” P.T. said. “I was so focused on being better and having more that I didn’t stop to consider what was right in front of me. And you all paid the price for it.”

“We’ll find a way to rebuild,” Phillip said. P.T. nodded, but didn’t look any happier.

“We will, but that won’t fix everything that’s happened.” He looked at Phillip again, his eyes roaming over the bruises and cuts on his face. “I’m sorry, Phillip.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” Phillip snapped. “I’m not dead, you know. Because of you, I’m alive. You … you saved me.”

P.T. just sighed as though he thought that wasn’t relevant, and Phillip was being obtuse. As though running into a burning building and carrying Phillip – the idiot who panicked and went back for no reason at all – was nothing. “Seriously,” Phillip said insistently. “I’m the one who should apologise. The circus burned down on my watch. I was the one who failed it.”

“No, Phillip.” P.T. reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You did good. It was a risk from the beginning, but you stuck with it. You gave up everything for it. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

Phillip swallowed. He hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear those words from P.T. Barnum, and now he didn’t know quite what to do with them. P.T. smiled at him, something more gentle and genuine than his usual eager grin and self-confident smirk.

“If Anne were here, she’d tell us to stop being a pair of self-pitying idiots,” Phillip said.

P.T. laughed and leaned back. “She’d be right.”

Phillip thought for a moment about his next move. He realised that, no matter how many mistakes P.T. had made, he’d still given Phillip the keys to everything he’d ever wanted without even knowing it. As angry as he might be at P.T. for abandoning them, he owed him. And despite everything, he liked him. Under circumstances, in a different life, he may have even loved him. “Move in with me.”

P.T.’s eyebrows shot up.

“Just for a while,” he said quickly. “Until you find your own place. The doctor threatened not to discharge me if I was going home by myself, anyway. Anne and W.D. offered to have me at their place for a few days, but … they don’t really have the room, you know …” he trailed off, embarrassed to be talking about Anne and W.D.’s lack of space as much as his own vulnerability.

“I couldn’t impose,” P.T. said deferentially.

Phillip snorted. “Don’t pretend I’m someone else. You’ve been imposing upon my life since we met. Why not now?”

After a moment’s hesitation, P.T. smiled and nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right. You sure? I thought you might not want anything to do with me, after everything.”

Phillip gave a crooked smile. “If only getting rid of you was that easy, Barnum.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where we end! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this little story so far. I have appreciated all your comments, and I hope that it has been a worthwhile journey. Please please please give me your feedback, critical or otherwise; I have so much love for the characters of The Greatest Showman, and bi!Phillip in particular, so I'd be eager to explore more fics in the future. Enjoy the last chapter!

It took them months to restart. Months of planning, arguing, negotiating. Months of late nights, hunched over accounts while P.T. peered over his shoulder, talking too fast for Phillip to keep up with.

Admittedly, Phillip had been sceptical about the whole ‘big tent’ idea. Sure, it was far less expensive, and if it went up in flames it wouldn’t be the end of the world … but it was still just a piece of fabric. He missed their old place, the museum-turned-circus. A building had stability and permanence. It had foundations that you could rest your feet on. A tent could literally blow away at any time.

“You’re being dramatic,” Anne complained when he told her this, hanging upside down from a piece of rope while he paced back and forth below her.

“I’m trying to be pragmatic,” he argued.

“Dramatic!” Charles said as he walked by. A couple of people in earshot nodded, but most of them were too busy rehearsing to engage in the conversation. Phillip sighed.

“Look,” Anne said, fixing him with a stern, upside-down look. “It was just a building. It burned down. If we got another one, people would probably burn that down too.”

“I know it wasn’t perfect,” Phillip said. “I just, you know, miss being able to lock the door.”

“That didn’t keep us safe before.”

“I _know_. Believe me, I know. It’s just the symbolism of it all, I guess.”

Anne cracked a smile. “Like I said. Dramatic.”

Phillip waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

She dropped down beside him, landing easily on her feet in a crouched position. When she straightened, she stood an inch or so higher than him. He loved it. “Look,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t rely on buildings to always be there. Sooner or later, everything crumbles.”

“Then what can we rely on?” he wondered aloud.

Anne smiled again, slightly self-deprecating. “Each other? People aren’t perfect either, but the right ones will stick by you forever.” She glanced up at W.D., who was doing handstands on a bar. “Trust me on this one, okay?”

Phillip brought his own hand up to hers and squeezed it gratefully. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have these little points of contact. Soft touches, playful nudges, and deep embraces; he cherished each and every one of them. “I always trust you.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, relishing the easy closeness. Their moment was interrupted by P.T. He meandered over to them, tugging at his red ringmaster jacket and frowning down at his buttons. “Does this look a little tight to you?” he asked anxiously.

Anne rolled her eyes and launched herself back into the air, leaving Phillip to answer the question. “It looks fine,” he said wearily.

P.T. did not seem to acknowledge this. “I put a few pounds on while I was on tour,” he said distractedly.

It was Phillip’s turn to roll his eyes. “I know, I heard all about it.” Living with P.T., even just for a few days, had been an eye-opening experience. The man didn’t seem to sleep, for one thing. Countless times, Phillip had stumbled into his own kitchen at 4 am to find P.T. hunched over a few pieces of paper, doodling and muttering his half-formed thoughts out loud. P.T.  _talked_ to himself, articulating every erratic, brilliant or downright crazy idea that flitted though his mind. It was endearing, but also exhausting. Phillip had been a little sad, but mostly relieved, when P.T. and his wife finally reconciled and found a new home to live in. It wasn't the same size as their old mansion, where Phillip had been invited to dinner a few times (and more than a few, when P.T. had been on tour). But Charity, Caroline and Helen were happy with it, and for once, P.T. seemed to be content with that. “You look good,” Phillip said. It was blatant flattery, but he also wasn’t wrong. “It suits you.”

P.T. grinned at him, all his self-consciousness disappearing in an instant. “You’re not dressed yet,” he observed.

Phillip looked down at his black tails, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you look like one of our fancier audience members, not a ringmaster. Where’s the red? Come on, kid, we’re on a schedule.”

“I … I thought you were leading the show tonight?” he said, confused.

“Sure, but we’re proper partners now, right? What, you think you can slack off and stand around backstage now that I’m back? Not a chance. Go get changed.”

There was no point arguing with P.T. when he got like that. Phillip had no idea how he was planning to incorporate both of them into the show – they’d trip each other up for sure, looking more like clowns than ringmasters – but he couldn’t deny that he was already mourning the fact that he wouldn’t be ringmaster anymore. Somehow, inexplicably, he’d come to love the spotlight. The role he played wasn’t real, it was just an act, but there was a kind of truth to it that just wasn’t possible to express in everyday life. He was going to miss it. If he could at least wear the outfit, it would help him to feel like he still belonged on this new stage.

When showtime came, it was more spectacular than Phillip could have ever dreamed. The crowd was enormous; P.T. had gone all out on the marketing, banking on the fact that this was the Barnum Circus’ triumphant return, unbeaten by the odds, bigger and better than ever. It had paid off. Phillip’s ears were ringing from the audiences’ screams of delight and awe.

As ringmaster, P.T. was as captivating as the day they’d met. Phillip felt a strange mix of pride and jealousy as he leaped back into the role with passion and excitement. It was like he’d never left.

Phillip loitered near the back of the tent, watching everything with both amazement and longing. They all looked amazing – Anne, W.D., Lettie, Charles, and everyone else performed with every inch of their heart and talent, beyond happy to be doing what they loved again. He was proud of them. Despite the adversity they’d faced, they hadn’t let it beat them. Anne had been right; they were more than a place or a building. They were a family. _His_ family.

He was so caught up in the performances that was taken by surprise when P.T. came running up to him. Phillip’s breath hitched as he handed him the cane, a self-assured smile on his face and a sad, yet accepting look in his eyes.

“What will you do?” he found himself asking, gripping the cane with white knuckles. He supposed that a part of him was afraid P.T. would just disappear again. But the rest of him was already thinking ahead, his mind whirring with ideas for keeping the circus going, making it better, finding new ways to honour and showcase their stars. They would be okay. They would survive and thrive.

But P.T. wasn’t running away. He was just devoting himself to his family, making a choice and committing to it. Phillip knew a bit about that. As P.T. handed him the reigns, he felt like something clicked into place. He’d made _his_ choice, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Phillip saw the ringmaster’s cue and, with a surge of excitement, ran out into the ring. He thrust the cane into the air and joined the chorus, his voice ringing with triumph.

Anne appeared beside him, her face split into a grin of sheer love and happiness. Phillip didn’t think; he just drew her close and kissed her, completely unashamed in the bright spotlight. Let the world see that he was in love, and happy. Let them judge; he’d found his balance. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and everything he’d ever needed. It was here right in front of him.

He was where he wanted to be.


End file.
